Modeling
by harrison-girl
Summary: Rapunzel thinks that she's got the upper hand in this one, but perhaps not so!


A/N: This is my first fan-fiction in a while, so forgive me if I'm a little rusty, heh. Anyways, if you're not comfortable with a shirtless Eugene, then turn back (but really, who would be uncomfortable with that? Certainly not I). So anyways, enjoy!

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Eugene is a little taken aback when Rapunzel asks him for a favor. It wasn't that he didn't help her out whenever (and that meant _whenever_) she asked, but it was the blush on her face that is growing darker and darker and the pale little hands tugging through waist length chestnut hair when she mutters about what she wants him to do.

She wants him to model for her as she paints. Easy enough.

"Well, I don't blame ya, princess. I'm rather…stunning, or haven't you noticed?" he says, with a sly grin. This earns him a swift kick in the leg.

"Oh stop it! Come on, to the studio!" she hisses, grabbing his hand, and then quickly dropping it. She dashes around the stone floor of the palace and makes her way up the stairs, her blue silk gown whipping around the corner, bare feet flying, and then finally out of earshot.

He sighs, and starts striding down the hall to follow her to her studio. The sun is streaming through the long windows, and birds are singing, and ships are sailing across the bay. Corona couldn't have been more beautiful, and he wishes that he were out there, walking the streets, preferably with Rapunzel, instead of being inside. But at least the studio is well lit.

When he finally reaches the studio, he knocks on the wood door. A bad idea, given how flustered she is, since he hears a muffled squeak and crash from behind the dark wood.

"Eugene! I'm so surprised! Why are you here?" she asks frantically, spilling out of the door, chest heaving, hair spilling over her shoulder, eyes wide.

"Uh, you invited me, like two minutes ago. You said you needed some assistance," he replies, eyebrows rising.

"Oh, oh, that's right! Well, welcome! Come in!" She throws the door open, showing the square room to him, with its peach-colored walls covered with her doodles, the skylight generously lighting up a white box in the middle. The room is scattered with easels, canvases, tables holding paints, charcoal, pencils, crayons, you name it, it was there. A large set of drawers has clearly been rifled through, their contents spilling out onto the floor.

He strides in, watching more ships sail across the clear blue water of the bay through the large window to his left. Pascal snoozes on the sill, soaking up the sun. He nudges the frog as he ambled around.

Pascal looks up, eye opening.

_Why…just why?_ The frog whirs in annoyance, and closes his eye again.

Eugene shrugs at him. _That's just how it goes, little buddy._

"Well, uh, Eugene, if you could just sit yourself, uh, down on that pedestal, we can get started!" Rapunzel bites her lip nervously and twisted a lock of hair around her finger. He complies and sits on the white box.

She hums a song that is rather rushed, and sets up a large easel. She fetches a big canvas, almost the same size as her, and wobbles across the room to set it on her chosen easel.

"Are you sure you don't need any help with that, Blondie?" he asks, shifting from his spot.

"Oh, nope, no, no, I'm just fine!" she exclaims, setting the canvas down on the ledge of the easel.

Vaguely, Eugene wonders what's got her panties up in a knot, and then realizes that the status of her panties is not really entirely his business. At least, he wishes it was, watching her bustle around the workroom, straightening her easel to just the right angle.

He clears his throat. She jumps.

"So, what sort of position would you like me to take, then, Blondie?" he asks.

Her face works around for a moment, before deciding. "If you could just sit a little forward…and clasp your hands together…and then lean your elbows on your knees…perfect. Now, look towards me."

"Shall I smolder?"

"No. Just…look like yourself."

"Well, looking like myself has had equally good and bad sides to it. Palace guards trying to capture me…bad. Pretty girls…quite good. Pretty girls with pet chameleons, even better." He hopes desperately that she would smile and relax if only for a moment.

"Hmmm, really?" she says dreamily, her fat piece of charcoal skimming across the white canvas, making little scratching noises.

After a while, Eugene's foot starts to itch in his boot. _Stupid socks, always wrinkling up at the wrong moment_. Rapunzel remains oblivious as he slips his boot off to scratch at the itch with the other booted foot. She has moved from charcoal to slipping and sliding watercolors over the drawing.

"Take a look at this, Eugene!" she exclaims after another moment passes. She sticks her paintbrush behind her left ear and waves him over. He clomps over, feeling ridiculous with only one boot on, and looks at the small, simple watercolor of himself.

"It's great. Anything else you need me for?" He sighs slightly.

Her face screws up, pondering. Her freckled nose bunches up adorably and he has the sudden urge to stroke her face, but settles with brushing his hand against her thigh.

"Well," she draws the syllable out, "If you could do one or two more poses, I think that would be…beneficial…to my project." He nods concisely and saunters back over to the pedestal to sit.

"Um, why don't you just take off your sock…and other boot and sock, Eugene?" she suggests lightly.

"What? Oh, yeah." He blushes, and ditches them, and Rapunzel watches in fascination, as his legs are revealed, well muscled and covered in coarse, dark hair.

"Now, could you prop yourself up on your elbows…just like that." She starts marking up the canvas with lines again.

He is dozing off to the methodical scratching of the charcoal when she stops. He looks up.

"What? Something wrong?"

"Well, yes. I don't think your vest is really working for me in this picture. Do you think you could…um-?"

"Remove it? More than happy to, princess," he grins, unbuckling his belts over his vest, and the shrugging the whole thing off into a pile on the floor. "Anything else?"

Her little hand scrabbles at her collarbone. "The, the next button on your shirt," she chokes out, like her mouth had suddenly gone dry. He smirks, and undoes the next two buttons on his shirt, dark chest hair appearing. He leans back on his elbows again, as she's instructed.

She regains her voice again, and comes over to him. "Something's not quite right, hmmm." She tugs his shirt a little more firmly across his shoulders, pulls it out of his pants, and musses up his hair a little bit. The touch of her cool fingers against his scalp sends a couple jolts down his spine, but heaven forbid he say anything about it.

"There. That's better." She sashays over to her easel again, and he lets a dreamy grin spread across his face. "Oh! Keep that expression! Just that one!" she cries out as she peers over the edge of the canvas. She begins to sketch again, faster this time.

It really wasn't hard to keep that expression, he thinks lazily; as he watches her legs dance near the dark wooden legs of the easel. So pretty and pale and womanly. He sighs, and she peers over the top of the canvas again, green eyes slightly curious. They flicker over him again, and disappear.

He gets used to her eyes peeping out more often this time; probably the fact that the drapes in his shirt are rather challenging to draw or something. He starts to relax again, dozing.

"Eugene, I'm done with this one. Would you mind doing one more?" she asks quietly.

"Not at all. Should I do 'The Thinker'"- he stops to look comically thoughtful-"Or perhaps 'David'? I mean, I'm certainly a good specimen for that, right?"-He clambers to stand on top of the pedestal-"Or should I just stretch out?" He smiles wickedly.

"No, no, just sit down again. Would you mind if I did a study of your back, please?" she murmurs, giggling.

"Sure." He plops back down on the pedestal, sitting up nice and straight.

"Ah, Eugene, could you please remove your shirt?" He looks over his shoulder at her, a delicate blush coloring her face, and grabs the hem of his shirt to tug it slowly over his head. This little…coloring session might just end up benefiting him as well as her.

She makes a small 'meep' sound and he hears the now-familiar scritch-scratch of the charcoal on canvas.

"Um, feel free to move around all you want, I can keep up with that," she says, and he stretches his arms backward, flexing his biceps. She makes another small noise, and the charcoal-on-paper picks up speed. He slouches a little, exposing his spine.

The sound of the charcoal stops rather suddenly and he hears the swish of fabric and the pad of bare feet on stone. She catches his arm and gently starts moving it to her preference, likely testing out the muscles and sinew and such.

She idly scratches his head with her fingers. His stomach tightens. _Jeez, who's seducing who now?_ She stops when she has moved both arms over his head, clasping the opposite elbow, and says, "Perfect."

He took the chance. "Oh, I know I am." She giggles and pecks on the top of the head. Chills raced down his spine, and he looks up at her.

"D-doing alright, Eugene?" she asks, casually trying to disguise the stutter in her voice. He grins up at her, relaxes his arms, and tickles her side lightly. She giggles again.

"Just fine," he says, "Why don't you take a break, relax with me for a second?" He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her down next to him gently.

"O-oh, well, just for a moment, then," she says, her blush more pronounced. She sits down quite close to him, feeling the rough material of his pants through her thin dress. It's nice, she thinks, and Eugene gives off a warm heat next to her. She takes a deep breath through her nose, trying to keep her heart from moving past fluttering and onto pounding. He seems remarkably calm.

His arm is firm around her waist, and she looks up at him, and brushes a lock of brown hair out of her eyes, smudging a bit of paint or charcoal or something on her cheek. He smiles, ever the charmer, and wipes it off. She gets a little closer. Her heart loses it; it's beating out of control now.

Why can't she bring herself to touch him back? She has him stripped down (slightly), as was her plan, they're comfortably close, he's in a good, tender mood, so why is she frozen! This was so easy when they were dancing in the village on her eighteenth birthday, so easy in the boat, and beyond easy in the tower!

She plucks up all of her courage and places a chaste kiss on his cheek and just stares at him for a moment. He just smiles, infuriatingly, and her hair puffs up slightly. He lifts his eyebrows as if to say _what? I'm not doing anything wrong_.

Stupid man. She stretches up and plants a kiss on his lips, throwing her arms around his neck. She feel a smile underneath her lips and he kisses a little deeper, his lips a little chapped, hands moving to circle her waist.

And just as Rapunzel is convinced that's she won, Eugene lets go.

"Blondie, since I've done you this one favor, how 'bout you do me one, and we go down to the beach. I'll teach you how to swim properly," he says, still charming.

She sighs, and says yes, and he pulls his shirt and vest back on, and smiling inwardly to himself, takes her small hand and they walk out of the studio, but not before Eugene can a glimpse of her drawings. Not only is there a male in the sketches on the canvas, but a female wrapping adoringly around him.

Yep, he thinks, swimming is just the thing.

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A/N: Do please take the time to stop and review, let me know if you liked it, didn't like it, whatever, any typos you spotted. Thanks for reading!


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